Hidden Motive

by Alexander, Hannah

  Sable gave Dillon a final pat and turned toward the kitchen. “Have you learned anything about your roomie?”

  “He has a dying mother in the hospital.”

  “And now he’s stranded. That’s rough for him.”

  “Yes,” Murph said slowly. “That would be especially hard since he got on the wrong bus.”

  Sable slowed her steps. “How’s that?”

  “He told me he was going to Fayetteville.”

  She looked up at Murph. “Wrong bus indeed.”

  “No one would board a bus headed southeast if he’s on his way straight south to Fayetteville. Do you get any sense that he might have been the one who pushed you on the ice?”

  “I simply don’t know.”

  “You might want to avoid being alone with him.”

  “You’re the one staying in the same room with him.”

  “I’m bigger than you.” Murph walked over to the wood stove. “You know how to cook on this?”

  “That depends on what you call cooking. If you mean the act of placing different foods together in a palatable form, all of us could starve while we’re waiting for the weather to clear. For breakfast I'm good at cereal and milk and maybe scrambled eggs. Home Economics wasn’t offered in my high school.”

  “That’s okay as long as you passed Science and Math.”

  “Those I can handle,” she said. Her eyes were drawn once again to Murph’s bare feet. “How far into the passage did you go?”

  “To that ugly looking pit. I’d imagine you know the cave pretty well.”

  “I’ve logged quite a few hours down there. Have you been outside?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “It’s like a war zone with all those branches coming down.”

  “I saw that. I bet the ice is two inches thick on the ground.” She took a clean pitcher from the cabinet above the sink and placed it beneath the spout of the water pump.

  “The icicles on the eaves of the house could pass for javelins.” Murph grasped the wooden handle and pumped it up and down. His eyes widened when water trickled from the spout. “This pump really works.”

  “It's a good thing because otherwise we'd have to melt ice for water. There's also plenty of food. And do you feel the warmth of the bricks?” She pointed down at the floor. “The furnace is directly below the kitchen.”

  Murph gave a low whistle of admiration. “Your grandpa knew how to prepare for the worst.”

  Sable opened the side door of the heavy cast iron stove. She struck a match and held it to the papers and kindling wood inside. Flames flickered and spread through the compartment. She tossed the match in and closed the door with a thump.

  She opened the refrigerator and took out eggs, sausage, and milk. Everything was still cool but if the power stayed out the contents of the fridge would need to go outside.

  Murph picked up a package of sausage and handed it to Sable. “Form this into patties while I mix up a batch of biscuits. Where are the flour and baking things?”

  Sable pointed to the proper cupboards, then took the sausage from him. “You took Home Ec.?”

  “My mother was an army cook. You did say there was enough food for everyone.”

  “Plenty. There are always multiple rows of canned goods in the basement. Mom grows a huge garden every year and cans food until it's coming out the eaves of the house. There's flour, meal, and powdered milk and eggs in the pantry, and chicken, beef, and fish in the freezer. The freezer will keep the meat for several days.” Sable formed the first patty and placed it in the hot skillet. The meat sizzled and spattered, scattering the smoky aroma through the kitchen.

  Their first diner arrived soon afterward. It was Audrey, her silvery hair combed back from her face in a casual style. She wore a white turtleneck and brown slacks that belonged to Sable’s mother.

  “They look great on you, Audrey,” Sable said.

  “Thank you. I snooped in your attic this morning. I’m a sneak and an antique freak. Mind if I take another look around later?”

  “Of course not. I’m sure the others would like to look for more clothes.” As long as they didn’t spend a lot of time up there. Sable had a search to conduct and she couldn’t do it with an audience.

  Chapter 12

  During the afternoon breakfast, Murph sat at the end of the long and beautifully carved dining table. As he passed the gravy boat, the sausage, and the eggs, he studied the others surreptitiously. In the past six weeks he’d been forced to teach himself a few spy techniques. He’d learned to watch people from the periphery of his vision instead of staring straight at them. He’d also learned to tune out chatter to focus on one conversation—or one voice—at a time.

  That was how he overheard Craig telling fifteen-year-old Bryce about all the neat things in the attic, and it was how he overheard Audrey remark to Jerri that the biscuits could have used a little more baking soda.

  Tomorrow he’d let her cook breakfast. More hopefully, she would be gone with the rest of the passengers. But judging by the ice outside, that was no more than a fool’s hope.

  “Delicious biscuits and gravy, Sable.” Perry selected two more biscuits from the platter.

  Sable wrinkled her nose at him. “Murph’s the cook. I’m the flunky.”

  “Many men can cook better than many women.” Perry split open a biscuit. “Look at the great chefs on the cooking channel. Many are men.” He raised his fork in the air like a baton. “‘Pork fat rules!’”

  “I beg your pardon,” Audrey interjected, “but that kind of fat does not rule.”

  “Fat adds flavor,” Perry argued. “Fat-free cooking never really caught on in America, fortunately.”

  “Not for some of us,” she chided.

  Simmons nearly choked on his scrambled eggs.

  “That’s right,” Perry said. “Take it from the lard expert. Gaining weight is America’s most popular pastime.”

  Jerri sat down at the other end of the table. “So is pork fat what you packed in that suitcase of yours?” she asked Perry. “That thing had to weigh at least forty pounds.”

  “Forty-five,” Perry said matter-of-factly. “And the contents of my personal luggage are my own business.” He split two of Murph’s biscuits in half and spread scrambled eggs over them. He broke up a sausage patty and crumbled it on top, then spooned a generous dollop of gravy on top of that. “Pork fat does rule,” he said almost reverently.

  He picked up his fork and scooped some of the gravy onto the tines. Like a connoisseur he touched the gravy to his tongue and smacked his lips, inhaling the steam rising from his plate. “Mr. Murphy, my compliments. I must get your recipe before we leave here.”

  “I’m afraid we’ll have plenty of time for that,” Murph said. “Without a thaw, we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

  “Then perhaps I need to check out that attic, myself,” Perry said. “I only brought one change of clothing with me.”

  “No more than one change of clothes in that case?” Jerri asked.

  “It’s nothing you need to be concerned about.” Perry relished another bite.

  They ate in silence for a moment, then Simmons pushed away from the table and picked up his plate.

  “Before anyone gets away,” Sable said, “I need to warn you that we’ll need to utilize the outdoor privy until we get electricity. Our water pump is electric.”

  Perry’s slightly protruding eyes widened. “How far is it from the house?”

  “Only about a hundred feet,” Sable said.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed,” Perry said, “I’m not elegant on ice.”

  “You’re not the one who went over the cliff edge last night,” Simmons muttered.

  Craig stopped eating. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sable took a fall,” Jerri told him.

  “Where?”

  “Over the cliffs near the highway,” Sable told him.

  “If not for the admirable length of my belt,” Perry said, “we might not have rescued h
er.”

  “Hooray for you.” Simmons left the dining room.

  “Is there another way out of here if there’s an emergency?” Jerri asked.

  “Not a better one,” Craig said. “Sable? You okay now?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “If I were you I’d leave this place and never look back.”

  Sable took her plate and stood. “I notice you haven’t left.”

  Murph got up to help Sable with the dishes.

  Craig brought a stack of plates to the sink. “I need help chopping wood for the furnace.”

  “I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Murph told him.

  Perry offered to pump water and carry it upstairs.

  One by one the others left until only Murph and Sable remained. They worked for a few moments in silence. He had discovered over the past few weeks that he enjoyed working close to Sable.

  “Nice family atmosphere we have,” he remarked into the sudden peace of the kitchen.

  “Cozy,” she drawled. “I’m glad this house is large enough to—”

  An angry shout interrupted her. A moment later Perry burst back through the kitchen door. “I can take the insults and the snide remarks about my weight and my luggage but someone has pushed the limit.”

  “What?” Sable asked.

  “They went through my things—riffled through my suitcase!”

  * * *

  Sable’s tension returned in force. “Was anything missing?”

  Perry swallowed and took a deep breath. “No but my belongings were rearranged. I detest a snoop!”

  “Maybe someone was simply curious,” she soothed. “We were discussing the mysterious contents of your luggage.”

  Perry glanced toward the door and gestured for them to draw closer. “Simmons,” he muttered under his breath. “He left before the rest of us, remember? After all that talk about my heavy suitcase and my…sizable presence, the man decided he could get away with invading my private space.”

  Audrey came rushing into the room, tendrils of silvery hair falling across her forehead, face flushed. “Perry Chadwick, what's all the yelling about? I nearly fell down the stairs, you startled me so, hollering and shouting like a house afire.”

  “Someone searched my suitcase,” Perry said. “It was a mess. Nothing was in place.”

  “So?” Audrey said. “My stuff was a mess. Even my purse. We were all over that road this morning.”

  “Yes but—”

  “Admit it,” Audrey interrupted, “you're touchy because we had a little fun at your expense at breakfast.”

  “That isn’t—”

  Audrey placed a hand on his arm. “I should never have made those comments about your weight and I apologize. There. I’ll take the blame for everything, okay? It’s bad enough we’re going to be stuck here together for who knows how long. We need to try to cooperate. Come on upstairs and leave poor Sable alone. She’s had a rough time of it.”

  Perry hesitated. He took a deep breath, as if attempting a swift attitude adjustment. He forced a smile that didn't go past the tight corners of his mouth. “I'm sorry I've upset everyone. I suppose I could have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I'm ill at ease because of the ice storm.”

  “We’re all uncomfortable,” Sable said. “Believe me, if I knew a safe way out of here we’d have taken it.” And she would feel much safer in the house without these bickering strangers.

  Perry dabbed beads of moisture from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I'm not accustomed to staying in a room with no locks.” He paused, then brightened. “I don't suppose it would be possible for me to move into another room…the attic, perhaps, if there’s a lock on the door.”

  “There isn’t but you can have my room,” Sable said. “I'll move a cot—”

  “Forget it,” Murph said.

  “That's right.” Audrey rested her stern gaze on Perry for a long moment. “I'd be ashamed, asking a young woman to give up her room like that.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Man up,” Audrey insisted. “If you want, you can barricade your door with a chair. I’ve found that works as well as anything.”

  Perry gave Sable a look of chagrin, spreading his hands in surrender. “Of course you're right, Audrey. How could I be so insensitive?” His voice held a heavy thread of dry sarcasm. “I was a bit overwrought.” He hoisted the band of his pants over his portly belly as he left the room with Audrey.

  Sable reached for the kitchen door and closed it, then leaned against the counter. Silent questions haunted her and she turned to find her own tension reflected in Murph’s eyes.

  “I didn’t imagine being pushed into that ravine,” she said

  “I know.”

  “But I can’t be sure it was intentional.”

  “We need to treat it as if it was intentional,” he said. “We also want to take Perry’s concerns seriously.”

  She closed her eyes. “What are we going to do? We have no contact with the outside world, no cell reception, not even land lines.”

  “We’re not on our own, you know.”

  She knew what he meant. Right now, however, her faith felt like such a transient thing. She nodded.

  “I think we should continue as we are for now,” he said.

  “It isn’t as if we can do anything else.”

  “Keep your door locked when you’re alone in your room. If we tell the others about what’s going on it’ll terrify them and possibly force someone—whoever it is—to make another move on you.”

  “Or you. I was standing right beside you last night. What if they intended—”

  “You’re Josiah Kessinger’s granddaughter.”

  “But if they get you out of the way—”

  “We’ll both remain watchful.”

  She gazed out the window at the frozen landscape.

  He stepped up behind her. “As I said, we’re not alone. We’re not helpless. Never forget Who is with us.”

  “Then why do I feel as if we’ve suddenly been abandoned?”

  “That won’t happen. You belong to Him.” He lay a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe that’s a lesson we both need to learn a little better.”

  Chapter 13

  The beam of Sable's flashlight made cobwebs glow in the corners of the attic as feminine laughter drifted up from the hallway. Audrey and Jerri sat in Jerri’s bedroom with the door open. The two of them served as unknowing lookouts. Sable felt secure with them nearby.

  This attic was filled with good memories. Tall bureaus— fashionable when Grandpa and Grandma had first bought this place—loomed to the ceiling, sentinels over a collection of other furniture and endless boxes of old clothes.

  She remembered being afraid of this place as a small child until Grandma assured her there was nothing scary up here. Today there were no assurances. Two dear people were already dead and it was possible that the reason behind their deaths might lie somewhere in this house, or at least on this property.

  “Grandpa, why didn’t you talk to me about this?” She gazed around the attic at the things her grandfather had valued most—boxes of family treasures, pictures, albums, old letters.

  She began a rudimentary search and found tax records, photographs, broken appliances, clothing. And then she opened another box. It held letters from Grandpa to Mom dated last December. Sable took out the contents of one envelope and scanned the pages.

  There was nothing new here. He mentioned the buck Boswell had shot on their hunting trip here in November, and how Boswell was gloating about the fact that Grandpa had fallen into a sinkhole and broken his ankle. He complained about Boswell nagging him to sell the place. For as long as Sable could remember, Boswell had wanted to buy this acreage. According to Grandpa, he’d increased the pressure since November.

  She was returning the letter to its envelope when the bottom step creaked on the attic stairs.

  She froze for a second and realized belatedly that Audre
y and Jerri had fallen silent. When had they stopped their chatter? Did they leave the bedroom? Why had she become so engrossed in letters that she’d dropped her guard?

  She turned off her flashlight and stepped behind a bureau, fighting the sudden panic that shot through her. Someone came slowly—stealthily?—up the staircase. She edged around the bulk of the bureau and glanced toward the attic steps. They were dark. The intruder wasn’t using a flashlight. Why not?

  As the form came closer, Sable took an automatic step backward. The floor creaked.

  “Who's there?” demanded a familiar male voice. Craig.

  Sable started breathing again as she stepped from behind the bureau. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” She turned on her flashlight and saw his startled expression.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Looking for something?” No reason to be afraid of Craig. She needed to stop overreacting.

  “I thought I heard someone up here.” He came up the last step and ambled toward her, the light from the gable windows placing the dark line of his eyebrows and hair in sharp relief against the winter paleness of his skin.

  “I didn’t realize I was making noise.”

  “What're you doing in the dark?” he asked.

  She replaced the box lid she held. “I turned off my light when I heard you. I didn't know who it was. Instinct. I always was a little nervous in the attic alone.” And why did she feel as if she had to over-explain herself? This was her home, not his.

  “So why come up here at all if you're still nervous?”

  She frowned. “What’s it to you?”

  “Whoa. A little cranky, aren’t you?” Craig paced along a row of boxes. He picked up the bowl of an old butter churn. “Your company isn’t the most congenial group, is it? That would make me cranky too. I heard Audrey and Perry arguing about his case being searched when I came in from wood chopping.”

  “I’ve heard a couple more limbs break while I’ve been up here.”

  “It’s not as bad as it was. Bryce helped me with some of the wood but I didn't let him stay out long. Murph's chopping now.”